One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) (13 page)

“I’m up for the challenge.” He paused at his own words. Jesus, she was giving him a no-apologies out and he wasn’t taking it. Instead, all he could think about was keeping her close. His stomach bottomed out with the three-sixty going on in his head. It was the shirt…he was jealous over the thought of her wearing it in front of other men. There, man enough to admit it, but…

“This isn’t a challenge.”

“Sure it is. You want me. I want you. What’s the problem?” What was the problem, his problem to be exact? He’d lost his mind…he should be ending things with her. Right now.

Sophie glanced at the ceiling with a short laugh. “This one-night-stand has gone far beyond the one-night rule. The problem is continuing to play with fire until one of us falls and the other one doesn’t!” She spun away and leaned against the couch.

“Falls?” He pressed gently, already afraid of her response. A warm sensation melted through his chest at the idea that maybe Sophie already was falling. She peeked at him before pressing fingers to her brow.

“Yes,
falls
. Isn’t that how a situation like this always ends?”

Tucker hooked his thumbs in the waist of his chaps, wanting to scoff at her words, but not quite being able to. She was being silly. And he was being stupid. He should have run out of here minutes ago, said thanks and good-bye, and never looked back. “There’s no falling here, Fifi,” he assured her. “Just pure, mutual, pleasurable-as-sin fun.”

Tucker took a step to her, his palms itching to smooth over her naked belly. “Come on, it’s fun for you too, baby. Look at you right now. Your skin is flushed all pink, the way it gets when I’m touching you. Your lips are wet from my kiss, parted just a little like they’re begging for more.” Sophie’s mouth dropped open right before she snapped it shut.

Tucker took two more steps. “You get goose bumps when I touch you. Those beautiful tits? Swollen for my hands. You can’t hide what you want from me, Soph.” He stopped just close enough that her body heat wrapped around him. His cock jumped to full attention at the heady force of his words and the way desire displayed across her face in reaction. One more touch, and he could have her naked and moaning under him on the couch. Tucker fisted his hands, breathing deep to get himself under control.

Sophie swallowed hard. “I can’t.”

“You want to.” He wanted to. Too much.

“It doesn’t matter, Tucker.” The steady heaving of her chest betrayed the inner workings of her struggle. Tucker gave her tiny Tit for Tap shirt one last cursory glance before grabbing his hat from the back of the couch and putting it on. He needed space to give himself a mental ass-kicking. Or before he hauled her over his shoulder and whisked her away somewhere—anywhere—to keep her from going to the bar.

“We’ll see, Fifi.” Tucker left and forced himself to go to the bunkhouse. He initiated a game of cards with Jax and cracked a new bottle of whiskey, the least he could do to stop himself from going to the Tit for Tap to watch the new waitress in action. If he did, there was no telling what kind of trouble he’d get into, and he was in trouble enough with that city girl already.

Chapter Fifteen

One good thing about many years of waitressing at bawdy, but lucrative bars is that Sophie didn’t need any handholding to learn the ropes at the Tit for Tap. It was like every other bar she’d worked at: filled with a rowdy crowd that was half-drunk before they’d walked in, loud, and full of non-stop cat calling, ass-grabbing, stupid pick-up line fun. And not on her part.

She’d made three hundred dollars in tips her first night, and a touch more her second, so Sophie had high hopes for tonight, being Saturday. A line had formed outside the bar nearly an hour before it opened, with the craze starting on the street as impatient patrons threw beer cans at the Tit for Tap’s front door and hollered to be let in. Bouncers had finally gone out for a little crowd control, but it hadn’t settled Sophie’s nerves much. She knew how to handle herself, sure, but being female in the middle of a crowd of men that boisterous and loud was a tad disconcerting, no matter how many other dives she’d worked in. Tucker had been right, though she’d never tell him. She wasn’t cut out for a bar quite like this, but the past two nights had gone well and she’d already made enough to put a small dent in the fee for her mother’s private room.

That was a good trade off, she figured. That, and holding her own so she could prove Tucker wrong. He’d infuriated her, demanding that she not work here, trying to strong-arm what
he
wanted into her life. He’d looked truly angry and concerned, which had taken her completely by surprise because they were, what, friends? Lovers? However it was defined, what they were didn’t justify or explain why he’d feel protective over her, and yet, it had touched her anyway.

He cared.

It was scary and thrilling, and completely the fuel she’d needed to avoid Tucker at all costs the past two days. So she’d hung around Missoula until it was time to go to work, and then fell into bed at three in the morning afterwards.

Despite being around people all day and all night, she was lonely; she missed Tucker, and that just made her irritable. He wasn’t supposed to care; that was getting too deep into something she couldn’t reciprocate. Even if she wanted to, because she could…she
did
. And missing him implied that she wanted more, too, which clearly, wasn’t possible. She was working at a bar with peanut shells on the floor and wearing a shirt that barely covered her boobs. If her life hadn’t taken a misguided twist already, she hated to see what was in store next. But she would, and that was a path she’d take alone.

Sophie edged to the bar to grab her drink orders, ears perking up at the excited chatter between the lead waitress, Pasha, and another waitress, Bren. When Pasha grabbed her sleeve and tugged her sideways, Sophie was thrown into the conversation. Pasha had sparkly blond hair and warm brown eyes. She was thin enough to wrap her apron strings around twice, with a pretty flare of hips and breasts to fill her out just enough to make Sophie slightly jealous. Pasha’s prettiness was the kind that could make her personality either incredibly bitchy or super sweet. She was both.

“Whatever happens, do not sit on the lap of the guy at table twenty.” Pasha sighed longingly, but rolled her eyes, giving Sophie the impression that Table Twenty had some explaining to do.

She continued placing glasses on her tray with an indifferent shrug. Her motto was to get through bar hours and collect tips as quickly as possible. Not get involved in the drama around here. “Not my table, so I’m good.”

“Not mine either,” Pasha sighed disappointedly. “But I’m still hopeful.”

Bren turned to Sophie. “Doesn’t matter if it’s your table or not. If he likes you, he’ll pull you over and make you sit on his lap.” She set a glass down with a resounding clank. “And then you’ll sleep with him and never hear from him again. Not that I know from experience…unfortunately. But I’ve heard.”

“Join the club, sister.” Pasha slid an order pad in her apron pocket. “I’ve been trying to get a spot on his lap for over a year. No dice.” Sophie made a quick glance through the bar. Why in the world would they be so worked up over a guy that sounded like a pump-and-dump? “He’s sexy as hell and loaded on top of it,” Pasha said, as if reading her mind. Then she made an “Mmmm-hmmm,” sound like she was licking something delicious off her fingers, and nudged Sophie. “Don’t say we didn’t warn ya.”

Sophie picked up her tray and waved Pasha on. “Good thing I’m not in the market for any lap-sitting.” An image of long, muscled legs clad in denim and leather came to mind. Pasha just scoffed and held her tray high as she prepared to move through the access door.

“Yeah, well, Tucker Haywood will make you change your mind. Trust me.”

The tray wobbled in Sophie’s grip, drinks spilling over and sloshing into each other. Tucker was at table twenty? Pasha grabbed her hands. “Whoa, Soph! You okay?” Okay was purely subjective. She could be okay that Tucker was a player because he wasn’t hers and could do what he wanted. Or she could be okay by plastering on a happy face and pretend this news didn’t bother her. Neither was working.

Everything seemed a bit numb, so Sophie set down the tray down before the whole damn thing fell over.
I can tell you which ones are real and which aren’t. Want me to make you a list?

“Oh
no
.” Pasha gripped Sophie’s shoulder with a squeeze. “You’ve already met him, haven’t you?”

“What?” Sophie shook her head, denial trying to wiggle through.

“Tucker. You’ve already…ah, met him.” Pasha watched her expectantly, but Sophie couldn’t bring herself to respond. “He didn’t make promises to you did he? I mean, that’s not his normal. It’s one-night. Any girl that’s gotten tangled up with him usually knows that upfront, from what I hear anyway.”

Sophie laughed a stunned, short sound. “Any girl?” No, he’d never made her promises, but their one-nighter had gone way beyond that and he’d never once put a stop to it. Neither had she.

Pasha clicked her tongue sympathetically. “He’s kind of got a reputation. Sorry, Soph.” With that, Pasha grabbed her orders and slipped away, leaving Sophie to wipe up her spills and pull herself together enough to sheepishly ask the bartender for do-overs. Swallowing hard, Sophie rooted herself to the floor and let a series of quick trembles wash over her.

Let it come and let it slide off your back.
What Tucker did in his past, or his present for that matter, was no concern of hers. Yet the discomfort inside her heart had a pulse of its own and brought a wicked validity to what she was trying so hard to deny: she
was
falling for him. To her credit, she hadn’t really had time to think things through. Stress could be driving this crazy attraction to him, or maybe the whole “forbidden fruit” thing was coming into play. Everyone wanted something they weren’t supposed to have, right? Since the moment she’d spied him at the carnival and used him as a lifeline, Tucker had represented that one, luscious thing she couldn’t have in the long term. Her life just wasn’t at that point where a man should be hanging around, and she shouldn’t encourage it.

Here she’d actually entertained the idea that he cared about her when, in reality, she’d just helped Tucker live up to his reputation. Sophie darted to the opposite end of the room from table twenty, not knowing, and trying hard not to care if Tucker was watching her from the shadows. Luckily, the bulk of her customers where a good distance away from where he was supposedly sitting, giving her berth to get her feelings, and her focus, under control.

She’d barely made sense of the anger and disappointment knocking around in her head when Pasha grabbed her arm and pulled her close to be heard over the DJ.

“You made it three days, so you have the chance to earn a little bonus. It’s an initiation thing,” Pasha said with a wicked smile. “Plus, the manager will give you a two-hundred-dollar bonus to do it.” She hitched a thumb at the tiny platform next to the DJ stage. “Just got to get up there and dance. One song.”

Sophie brushed Pasha’s off. “Shut up.”

“Not kidding.” Pasha looked to Dave the manager, who waved a bill in the air with a wink.

“I dance on the stage and I get two hundred bucks?” She needed the money, and she knew how to dance. This was a no-brainer. She’d danced in front of more crowds than she could recall in all her years of dance, but never in a bar, and never while wearing a belly shirt that barely covered her girls. Tucker’s stripper comment came back to haunt her, and she gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t be taking any clothes off, but she could shimmy for a couple hundred. Cash was her focus, after all. No harm in that.

“Yep. The crowd digs it. Dave knows he’ll make the money back easy, plus some in drinks once you start shaking your ass up there.”

Sophie wanted to blurt out that this was going to be the easiest money she ever made. Sixteen years of professional dance made stage fright a non-variable. “I get to choose the song?”

Pasha shrugged. “Yeah.”

Sophie didn’t want to sound too eager, but her quick, “You’re on!” made Pasha clap excitedly. She was feeling a little of that excitement, too, over getting up there and dancing for the sake of her lost art. Yet Sophie couldn’t help but think how much she’d rather be slow dancing with Tucker in the barn again, then shaking her ass in front of all these men. Her head was still crowded with images of him pulling some random woman on his lap, pumping a defiant kind of jealousy through her.

“Awesome. Tell the DJ your song and get on up there.”

A chill burned her arms. It had been a while since she’d danced. To say she missed it was an understatement. After confirming the DJ had her song, she perused the crowd until she found a man wearing a baseball hat. He was more than agreeable to let her borrow it.

Sophie took her hair down, donned the cap and kicked off her flats before stepping up onto the platform. The crowd burst into the loudest raucous she’d heard in the three days she’d been working here. She put a finger to her lips to signal silence. To her surprise, the crowd hushed. Sophie felt a rush of adrenaline at the promise of a performance and hoped like hell she remembered all the moves to this routine. It was the last one she’d taught her teenaged hip-hop class at the dance company before she’d quit. With a tip of her other hand, Sophie signaled the DJ and Kesha’s “Tik Tok” blasted through the room. Her face flushed at the murmur that went through the bar. Yeah, hip-hop in a country bar probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was her favorite and she was good at it.

When she did a twisty, sassy walk across the platform, tipping the baseball hat to one side, the murmur turned into a cheer and her fears were forgotten, replaced by an adrenaline rush that erased everything in the room. For the first time in too long, it was just her and the music.

…

Tucker stood so he could see over the crowd. Up until every man in the room gathered around the stage, he hadn’t been paying much attention. He’d been watching Sophie from the shadows, nursing a beer, but got sidetracked when a fellow rancher sat down for a chat. He wasn’t being a stalker, really. He’d just wanted to check in, make sure she was doing okay at this shithole bar. The moment Tucker had set foot in the Tit for Tap, he was reminded that it had been months since he’d been inside, and for good reason. The dim atmosphere and loud, obnoxious crowd didn’t hold any appeal to him anymore. Once, this was his spot of choice for getting away from the ranch, maybe finding a little female company. But it had lost its appeal, and he’d been quickly reminded why.

When he saw Sophie on the platform, rampant shock and disbelief quaked through him. What the hell? He knew rookie waitresses had to do a stint on the stage, but he’d never thought she’d do it. Oh, hell no. He’d come because he had to see her, and not to watch her sell herself out in Dave’s sleazy money-making trick. Tuck elbowed his way closer to get a better vantage point. She’d let her hair down, kicked off her shoes and was wearing a baseball cap. Then music with a vicious beat pummeled through the room and she just started dancing, in a fluid, yet controlled way that looked like something he’d see on television. It happened fast, each movement in perfect time with the music, the result impressive and oddly beautiful. Most of the girls he’d seen on this stage danced like barely-practiced strippers. Sophie was anything but, far surpassing what the Tit had seen before.

When she spread her arms wide, shook her chest and tipped the hat, the guys around the stage started fighting themselves to rush her. Sophie hopped backward, spreading her legs with knees bent and arching her body forward in a wide arc before jumping back and slicing the air with a fist. Tucker forgot about the men panting over her for a minute when he realized how fierce his normally soft Sophie looked. She exuded another identity, one that fit that inner spark he’d seen peeking from beneath her outward layers.

The naked strip of belly between her top and jeans glimmered in the light like her skin had been rubbed with oil. The light ends of her hair swayed around her shoulders and whipped around her face as she danced, her arms graceful yet purposeful, every sway and arc of her hips doing strange things to his gut. He knew her spark all right, and it took everything in him not to drag her off the stage right then and turn it into an explosion.

By the grunts and cheers of the men around him, he wasn’t the only one thinking about doing naughty things to Sophie. Tucker bristled as jealously breeched the cage around his resolve to be indifferent. It was all he could do these past couple nights to stay at the ranch. But the image of other men groping and grabbing her while demanding drinks kept replaying in his mind. Yeah, coming here tonight wasn’t a choice. It was a matter of keeping his sanity. If he didn’t, he’d paced Paint River until Jaxon knocked him out cold, just to put him out of his misery.

Suddenly, the tempo changed, morphing into a seductive beat. One quick look to the bar displayed Dave, rolling a finger in the air at the DJ to keep him playing, likely with the hopes Sophie would keep dancing. The wall of men hadn’t thinned any, making it difficult for Tucker to get closer. Sophie had stopped and taken off the hat, one hand smoothing back her hair as the other tried to wave off a wad of bills being offered her way from the crowd. Like a virus, the bill waving caught on and soon the front row was waving money like flags. She tried to discourage them, but the bastards weren’t getting the message. When her brow fell and a flicker of fear crossed her face, Tucker elbowed his way through.